House of the Sun Read Online Free PDF Page B

view—and smiled when he saw my face. "Mr. Montgomery." There was real warmth—or an impressive simulation of it, at least—in his voice. "I'm glad I was able to reach you."
    It was funny, but in that instant, I was glad, too. I hadn't known it until now, but this moment had been haunting me for four years. Just as you can get so used to pain like a toothache that you forget it's there, I'd become accustomed to the chronic, low-grade stress of wondering when the call would come, when the other shoe would drop. But that didn't mean the stress hadn't been there, hadn't been real. Now, as Barnard smiled at me out of the screen, I felt a strange, twisty sensation in my gut . .. and I realized, with a shock, that it was four years' worth of tension finally being relieved.
    "Mr. Barnard," I said noncommittally. "Long time."
    His smile—more genuine than I'd have given his acting ability credit for—grew broader, and he leaned back in his chair. His telecom's video pickup adjusted focus, and I got a better view of the statues beyond the portico. "How are you enjoying the sunshine in Cheyenne, Mr. Montgomery?" he asked lightly. "A pleasant change from Seattle, I would imagine."
    I shook my head, momentarily dumbstruck. He was talking about the fragging weather. With an effort, I brought my thoughts back under control. "A change is as good as a rest, that's what they say, at least." I glanced away from his face to the view behind him. "Wouldn't you agree?"
    He chuckled. "There are some significant .. . perquisites ... to corporate rank," he admitted. "I do rather like Kyoto. Have you ever visited the city?"
    "Never had the time."
    "Unfortunate." He pursed his lips momentarily. "But you do like to travel, I trust?"
    "Only if I get to keep any frequent-flier points they give me," I said dryly. "Look, Mr. Barnard, despite appearances, I'm assuming that this isn't a social call."
    He blinked, and his expression changed. For an instant, I could have almost believed that there was disappointment in his eyes. It was gone in a microsecond, and his face became the cool mask of the seasoned negotiator. "As you wish, Mr. Montgomery." He paused, as if to order his thoughts. "As you might have guessed, there is a ... a matter, one might say ... on which you can help me. Do you have a passport? Not in your own name, of course"—he chuckled softly—"considering that Derek Montgomery officially died in twenty fifty-two. But one that will pass muster?"
    I nodded.
    "Good. Then I have a request for you. I have a message that I need delivered to a ... a colleague of mine. I would like you to deliver it for me, Mr. Montgomery."
    I snorted. "You want me to be a delivery boy?"
    "I wouldn't put it quite like that," Barnard hedged.
    "But it's accurate."
    He shrugged. "If you wish."
    "Why can't you do it electronically?" I asked. "Or virtually, over the Matrix?"
    Barnard's dark eyes hardened, and I felt my internal temperature drop a couple of degrees. "I have my reasons, I assure you," he said coldly. But then his mien softened an iota. "Personal contact is required in this situation, Mr. Montgomery. Circumstances are such that nothing else would be acceptable."
    He was trying to win me over by being reasonable, by actually explaining —to some degree, at least. But I wasn't going to get sucked in that easily. "So why not send one of your flunkies from Kyoto?" I shot back. "There's got to be hundreds of keeners just dying to— to kiss hoop, is what I started to say, but at the last moment I reconsidered—"to do the executive veep a personal favor. Neh ?"
    Barnard frowned. "Perhaps. But that would be ... inappropriate ... in this case."
    "Why?"
    "Because the contact must be untraceable, Mr. Montgomery. I need a deniable asset."
    "You mean an expendable asset, don't you?"
    Barnard sighed in mild frustration. "Not in this case, Mr. Montgomery." He gave a wry half smile. "Under other circumstances"—he shrugged—"who knows? But not in this case, I